And here’s me, still thinking of 2011 as a new year.
Debbie goes home to Colorado Springs today–I will miss her a lot!–and I’ll be driving her to the airport a little while from now. Bernice and I have already been out for our morning walk–the weather is fabulous, though there’s a chance we’ll get snow by the end of the week.
I have a hair appointment this afternoon–badly needed.
Not one single trick-or-treater last night. I miss the old days, when all sorts of scary creatures rang my doorbell and held out a bag for a treat. I guess it isn’t safe anymore, and that’s truly sad. When I was young, back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, we could trick-or-treat at every single house in town, and we did. Some of the kids took pillowcases for bags and one memorable year, my cousin Steve got a piece of apple pie at one house–they’d run out of the regular stuff by the time he arrived, I guess. Homemade popcorn balls and carmel apples were not unusual, and although it certainly must have raised the cavity count, it was fun.
In our hometown of Northport, WA, my dad was the marshal and also the ‘road commissioner’–which meant he plowed and graded the mostly unpaved streets–he was also the water commissioner, but that’s beside the point–and he took care of the stop signs around town, not that there were that many of them. Since a favorite trick of the older kids was to pull the stop signs out of the ground, my clever Dad spent a sunny October afternoon painting all the sign posts, while the culprits were still in school. Since they were still wet with paint when the fun started, later in the evening, the miscreants were easy to spot–they had streaks of white paint on their clothes and hands. Imagine the parental consternation when my brother came home in paint-stained clothes.
Those were the days.